Legality of Marriage
by Caitlin-Silver
Summary: Sequel to That's How Love Works, Right? "I didn't take that idiot seriously when he said he would be giving up "for now". . . Now I'm stuck with the bastard for a month. Great. . ." Established Romerica, One-sided Spamano, GerIta. In which a jealous Spain tries to break up Romano and America. Rated T for language.
1. Prologue

So as I said in the prequel for this, I wrote a sequel. Which would be this. Hooray!. . . I suggest you read the prequel _That's How Love Works, Right?_ first to understand this but you don't necessarily have to. It would just be easier for you to understand all of this._  
_

I'll lay down a basis for those of you that are too lazy to read the prequel: Basically, Spain is a jealous mofo because 'his' Romano is with America so he's going to be trying to 'break' them up – in this story that is. He simply said he would be giving up 'for now' in the previous story. Romano totally didn't take what he said to heart (big mistake) so now he's going to find out how serious he was!

In other news, I have a few story ideas other than this one that I want to write but I am unsure of which story to write first so I am going to set up a poll on my profile. Vote for which one you want me to work on first. Granted I won't post it till it's done but the one you choose will happen a lot faster. I myself am leaning towards _Foxy Troubles_ (_yes,_ it's a Spamano fic) and have already begun writing it actually.

That's really all I have to say so yeah. Read on. Authors note at the bottom too! Read that because it's important!

_–Caitlin-Silver_

* * *

Married life for both Romano and America was both simple and hectic. Simple because their daily lives were routine: wake up, shower, eat breakfast, do whatever work that needed to be done, come home, eat dinner, and then go to bed. Hectic because the two personified countries went between living in Italy and America and the constant traveling back and forth put stress on the pair, causing numerous fights. The two always managed to patch things up though, so it was okay. However, the going back and forth between both countries was starting to really wear them down and they agreed they had to figure out a different arrangement.

"All right then, _idiota,_ what do you suggest we do?" Romano growled slightly, setting food on the table for both of them. Today was rare; neither of them had any work that needed attending to, so they were free to do whatever.

"Hmm," America hummed thoughtfully, taking a bite of food. "I dunno but we can't keep this traveling back and forth 'cuz it's really wearin' me out. I may be a hero and all but even _we_ have limits!"

The Italian rolled his eyes, already having expected the answer he received. "Actually," he began, "I have been thinking over some options."

America raised a brow, interested to hear what the older Nation had in mind. "Okay, what's your idea?"

"Right now I have two options in mind," he responded, holding up two fingers. "One is: we talk to our bosses and discuss the possibility of moving in permanently with one another. Second is: you go back to America to live and I stay here in South Italy. This would avoid any problems with our bosses but then it would kind of defeat the purpose of this. . . marriage. Understand?" Romano finished, seeing the displeased look on America's face at the second option.

"I would rather go with the first option but I dunno how that would pan out, exactly." America said, tightening his lips together. He understood that they might have to go with the second option, _at least for a while,_ but he didn't want to do that. Being countries put such a strain on relationships––that was why it wasn't exactly encouraged––, especially when it was with a country across the ocean and in a whole different continent. It would have made things a whole lot easier if they were at least in the same area, or close to it. "I guess," he began shakily, "I'll go back to America for a while and talk it over with my boss. It _might_ be possible to do work over here since I know you don't exactly like the idea of moving over to my place."

Romano nodded. "The last thing I want to do is move to America. No offense."

America shrugged, smirking slightly. "None taken! You can't exactly handle my place anyway~"

The younger Nation received a kick to the leg under the table and a harsh glare. "Ouch! Lovi, that was so _mean._"

"Hmph," Romano pouted, crossing his arms. "Serves you right."

. . .

America ended up going back to his country, promising he would talk over their options with his boss. (He had a bunch of work he needed to get done over there anyway. . .)

"I'm not promising anything but I'll do what I can! The hero will try his hardest!" Alfred promised his slightly––more like _heavily_––pouting husband. Romano let out a harsh breath, crossing his arms and looking away. The pair was standing in the airport along with Veneziano and Germany to see America off.

"Ve~ _Fratello,_ you shouldn't be so grumpy! Send America off with a smile, _sì?_" Italy said, trying to brighten his obviously unenthusiastic brother. Germany only sighed and shook his head, knowing Italy's attempts were futile. They would only be shot down.

Romano glared at his younger brother. "Shut up," he growled. "How would you like it if Germany left _you_, hmm?"

"Ve~. . ." Italy's cheery expression turned sad, frowning at the thought of Germany leaving him behind. He understood how his brother felt, of course, but he was just trying to make things more bearable for him. Then again, it never was easy when a loved one left, especially when they were traveling as far away as America was.

Despite his rough exterior (_and rude attitude_) Romano was fiercely loyal and once attached, it was hard to get him to part with the object of his attachment. Which, in this case, would be _America._ Saying goodbye was a difficult process and since America would be gone for quite a few months, it was difficult to get Romano to let him go. . . _Literally,_ Italy and Germany had to pull him away from his spouse since he had such a vice-grip on him.

"Ve~. . . Come on, _Fratello, _you need to let go!" Italy said, trying his best to get his brother to let go.

"Piss off!" he growled, not letting go. America simply stared at the scene, looking down at the smaller man with amusement. _Ah, to feel loved~_

"Please Romano, you need to let go. America is going to miss his plane," Germany tried, finally speaking.

The man now _slightly _(cuz' Romano is too manly to ever full out _sob_) teary-eyed man shook his head furiously. "No! Let go of me you bastards! Forget the stupid plane, stay here you big jerk! Do you have any idea what it's like being stuck with these," he motioned towards his brother and Germany, "_idiotas?!_"

America sighed, finding the expression on his husband's face _adorable._ "Now, now," he patted his head, attempting to calm him down, "we've been through this, Lovi, I'll only be gone for a short while," Romano snorted, "and you know this is for the good of us both."

"The 'good of us both' _my ass._ Fine, then, if you're so strung up on leaving then go." The brunette male waved his hand at America like he would at a fly, acting as if he didn't care. Which, by the way, he totally _didn't._ . . Well, maybe he did. . . Just a bit. . . _Fuck, _okay _a lot._

"Aww Lovi~ Don't be so harsh!" America wrapped him up in his arms, squeezing him tight. "I'm gonna miss you~"

Romano couldn't help the pink that dusted his cheeks. He awkwardly circled his arms around America's back, patting it slowly, as if waiting for something to happen. "I-I. . . I'm g-going to miss you, t-too. . ." he trailed off, turning even more red than he already was.

America lifted his hand and pinched the Italian's cheek. "There's my cute, grumpy, lovey, Lovi~"

"Shut up bastard!" Romano grumbled, burying his face into the taller man's neck. He was clearly embarrassed. Veneziano couldn't help but find the pair utterly _adorable._ Germany simply found it awkward, his cheeks turning slightly pink at the atmosphere, and turned away.

It took a little bit but America finally was able to get out of Romano's tight grip––he had to be persuaded with _several_ kisses, which he would never admit to––and catch his plane. He was a good five minutes late boarding but they managed to wait for him. Of course, many passengers couldn't help but complain at this. ("Yeah? Well you try saying goodbye to your husband who's leaving for several months! _Bitches!_")

The way back from the airport was mostly uneventful; Italy talked, Germany threw in a word or two while driving (don't trust Italians to drive), and Romano remained quiet, wishing he was somewhere else.

"_Fratello~_ Guess what? I forgot to tell you something earlier but you got an e-mail from big brother Spain!" Italy said cheerfully, poking his head into the backseat of the car.

"Oh really?" he answered back, not really interested in what the letter had to say, and completely ignoring the fact that his brother was reading his e-mail. Thankfully the bastard had kept his promise to 'giving up' and leaving him alone. He had even kept his promise and not made a fool of himself at the wedding, though he did cut it close a couple of times. . . "What did it say, then?"

"Well I didn't really understand what he was talking about but something about keeping his promise. Whatever promise that was! Did big brother Spain make a promise to you?~"

"Not that I am aware of. . ." Thinking back, he couldn't really pin-point when the idiot had made any promise. He just said that he was giving up and that was all. Then again, the asshole did mention something about giving up 'for now' but he hadn't really meant such a thing. . . _right?_ Romano's eyes widened at this thought. "Oh _fucking hell,_" he whispered.

Italy frowned, wondering what his brother was thinking about. "Is something wrong? Ve~. . ."

Romano's hazel-green eyes snap up to meet his brother's worried amber orbs. "N-nothing! I just remembered something, that's all, so don't fucking worry about it. Okay?" It wasn't a lie––he really _did_ remember something. Something, in itself, he wished was a lie.

". . . Well, okay! If you say so _Fratello~_ Oh and before I forget, Spain also said he was going to be visiting us this month! Isn't it exciting? Ve~ I'll make all sorts of pasta and we can go out and shop and–"

Romano tuned his brother out after hearing that Spain was coming to visit. Why would that bastard choose _now_ of all times to come visit? Did he catch wind that America was going to be gone? No, he couldn't possibly know about it. Who would tell? No one that knew would tell – he narrowed his eyes. _Veneziano._

His stupid, dumbass of a brother must have blabbed to Spain about it all. The idiots kept in touch whenever possible through the computer. Why the fuck did they buy one of those _stupid, annoying _machines again? _Oh wait,_ he remembered, _America talked Veneziano into getting one. Goddammit. . ._

"Ve~ _Fratello!_ We're home – hey! Look who's waiting on the porch!" _Oh fuck no._ "Is that. . ? Ve~ Germany is that–?"

Germany sighed, "Yes, Italy, it's Spain."

_Son of a fucking hell. . ._

* * *

Okay like I said up top, Authors Note! This is _highly important._ I want you guys to send in your ideas on what types of schemes and plots Spain has to break up Romano and America. I'm going to tell you all right now that this story won't end in Spamano because it just doesn't make sense. Spain has a _month_ to break them up and I highly doubt he's going to make Romano fall out of love that friggin' fast. This story is more comical than anything.

Anyway, yeah, send in your ideas! It's hard coming up with stuff so anyone who sends in an idea will be mentioned in the beginning of the chapter! I'd offer you a short one-shot in exchange but I just don't have that kind of time to write all of those. . .

Well, as always, _ciao__,_ fools!


	2. Day 1

I'm going to try to write a new chapter for this everyday but I can't guarantee it since it's hard coming up with funny ideas for Spain to try to ruin Romano's marriage. That's why I need help!. . . I need ideas! The more ideas I get, the faster I update this, the faster I finish this, the faster I write a new fic. . . You get the picture.

On a completely unrelated note, I am totally addicted to the song _The Other Side_ by Jason Derulo. He's like, my favorite singer _ever._ I love him so much!

Before I forget, I have planned to make this story around thirty chapters so that's what the goal is.

Yup. That's all I have to say I think. . . Oh, I apologize for any grammatical errors. You know the drill; point them out and I'll fix 'em when I can.

_–Caitlin-Silver_

* * *

Life couldn't get any worse for Romano at that point in time. First, America leaves and then second, Spain comes to visit. For a fucking _month._ Who the fuck decided the bastard could stay for a whole goddamn month? Romano didn't care, he was blaming the entire situation on his brother. The stupid little _fucker._

Do you know what it's like sitting in a room with a creepy ass Spaniard who does nothing but stare and smile at you? No, no you don't. Romano, however, _does_ and he is not a very happy camper. Italy decided now would be a good time to go out with Germany and do some shopping and leave Romano home alone with Spain. Fucking _Spain._ Someone up there must have hated him or something because his luck couldn't get any worse.

"So Romano," Spain decides to start, breaking the silence, "how are things going with _America?_"

Romano doesn't like the way he says his husband's name. It's obviously full of _hate_ and _malice._ He glares at the seemingly cheerful Spain. That smile was definitely fucking strained though. "Things are going just _fine._" He made it a point to stress the 'fine' for a reason.

Spain frowns openly now. He's silent for a long time before his lips curl into a pout. "Oh really?" he says. "I thought you were having a few problems. You know it's quite stressful being married to another country who lives in a completely _different_ continent. . ."

"We manage," the Italian says quickly, angrily. He gets a feeling he knows where the _dumbass_ is trying to take this and he doesn't want to hear it. _Veneziano,_ he thinks to himself, _you're going to pay for this._

Spain raises his hands in a defensive manner, smiling. "I'm just saying that it's hard and stressful! No need to get so mad, Roma~"

"Yeah right, you were trying to take that topic somewhere. I know you Spain," Romano shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Um," Spain tilts his head in a seemingly innocent way. "I'm not so sure I get what you mean! Ahaha~"

"Stop acting all dumb and clueless, I _know_ what you were trying to say!" Romano's voice raises an octave, gaining volume. He's starting to get pissed off (not that he wasn't already before) with Spain's 'act-all-dumb-and-clueless-and-make-Romano-look-stupid' plan. Well you know what? No, it's _not_ going to work. Romano coughs into a fist, trying to calm himself. "Just admit that you were going to say that I should only be with someone who's in the same continent as I am. Like with yourself, for example. I _know_ you were going there."

Spain puts on a hurt expression. "Roma~ I never said anything of the sort or even _hinted_ at such a thing!" His hurt expression quickly changes into a cheerful, happy one, "But~, since you brought it up, would you like to–"

"Nope." And with that, Romano is out of the room and heading towards his bedroom. It's way past his siesta anyway.

. . .

Spain sits quietly in the living room, frowning at the rejection. "Darn," he sighs. "I thought that one might have worked. Francis did say that it is best to move in slowly and use subtle hints but. . . Then again, he didn't know I was talking about Romano~ Hmm. . ."

Trying to get Romano to fall in love with him again was going to be a challenge but, he thought, it would be worth it in the end. He just had to find someway to break him and America up first. That would be the hard part since it wasn't exactly hard to under Romano's skin and irritate him. He just had to make sure he irritated Romano enough to keep his attention on _him_ and not have him thinking of his oh-so-precious America. If he could manage to keep his attention on him then it would only make it that much easier to make him love him again and fall out of love with America!

Spain put his hands together, smiling at the thought. He had to be fast about it though – he only had a month to accomplish his goal before he had to return home. His boss wasn't exactly happy with him at the moment. . .

The Spaniard pushed away the thoughts of his Nation duties to the back of his mind. He was here visiting to win Romano back, not think about his job. _How does one go about winning the heart of a grumpy Italian?_ Spain didn't know but it must not be too difficult if he managed to do it all those centuries ago. Romano hadn't really changed since then–he had been trying to tone down his language (it wasn't going very well)–so it shouldn't be _too_ hard to accomplish, right?

It was all well and dandy thinking about his options and how to go about them but it whole different thing when you actually had to do them. Plans can backfire or can change completely when be carried out. _Hmm. . ._

"Maybe I can ask Italy how America went about wooing Romano. . ."

. . .

This is exactly what Spain does when Italy and Germany return.

Spain waits patiently, sitting on one of the chairs located in the living room as Germany and Italy put away their groceries. He had offered to help them but Italy refused, saying he was their guest. ("Guests need to relax! Ve~ Just wait in the living room while Germany and I do this, okay?")

Spain doesn't want to rush them but he can't help but feel antsy. Everything is riding on this one month. He _has_ to succeed in his plans otherwise he would lose the most important person in his life. Minutes pass and he can hear Italy talking quite loudly from the kitchen to Germany. Spain taps his fingers against his knee, attempting to entertain himself while he waits. It doesn't work. He sighs audibly, looking around the room for another source of entertainment but comes up empty. He wishes they would hurry up. . .

"Ve~ Sorry big brother Spain! Me and Germany are done now though," Italy says, walking into the living room with a stray of drinks. The half Nation sets the tray on the table before plopping down on the couch with Germany sitting himself next to him. "I hope Romano wasn't too mean or anything while we were gone! Ve~"

Spain blinks before laughing, "Ahaha~ No, Roma was just being his usual self. Anyway, I was meaning to ask you something about Romano and America."

This statement catches Germany's ears, making him eye the Spaniard with interest while he sips his drink. Thankfully, it goes unnoticed by Spain and he continues, "I was wondering what America did exactly to woo Romano."

Germany chokes on his drink, spitting it out and successfully spraying Spain. "_What?_"

"Ve~ Germany! Are you okay?" Italy asks worriedly, patting the larger man's back. Spain simply frowns, finding it quite disgusting to be spit on even though it was by _accident._ "I'm sorry Spain! You can go change and I'll wash your clothes for you!"

Spain is silent for moment, staring at Germany before agreeing with an "Okay" and walking out of the room to go change.

Italy stares at Spain's retreating figure until he is out of sight before turning back to Germany. "Ve~ Germany. . . what's wrong?"

Germany pats his throat with his fist gently, trying to even his breathing out. "Nothing," he assures Italy. "Nothing at all. . ."

The German knew he should probably tell Italy of Spain's infatuation with his older brother but he couldn't bring himself to do it. If he did, then that would cause problems between Spain and Italy and the two always got along so well and he didn't want to create a riff between friends. Then again, on the other hand, Italy was bound to find out later and when he did, he'd be upset with himself for not noticing. There was always the possibility of Italy finding out that Germany knew all along and then he would ask why he hadn't told him before and. . . Things wouldn't end well, to put it simply. Germany didn't even want to think about what Romano's reaction would be to the whole thing. Did he even know about Spain's feelings? He wasn't sure. . . He hoped he didn't.

A pair of fingers snap in front of his eyes, causing him to look up. "Ve~ Germany, you were spacing out! Are you sure you're okay?"

"I apologize Italy, I was thinking about something. Nothing to worry about," he says with assurance. "Let's go make dinner instead, _ja?_"

Italy smiles at the thought of making dinner because dinner meant pasta! "Okay!"

* * *

So hows about helping me out here with some ideas! It would be reaaaaally helpful!

As always. . . _ciao, _fools!


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